


I Can Give You What You Want

by Mackem



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Gloves, Leather Kink, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:52:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I forget why, exactly, but <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari">canistakahari</a> asked me to write a story about Michael Fassbender spanking James McAvoy in leather gloves. I do what I’m told, and made her beta in return.</p>
    </blockquote>





	I Can Give You What You Want

**Author's Note:**

> I forget why, exactly, but [canistakahari](http://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari) asked me to write a story about Michael Fassbender spanking James McAvoy in leather gloves. I do what I’m told, and made her beta in return.

“You know, if I was really Magneto -”

“ - You mean you’re not?”

Michael can’t help but laugh. Apparently James is able to pitch his voice at ‘disappointed and approaching heartbroken’ whilst stripping himself and smirking like a demon. The expression suits him more than the tone, in Michael’s opinion. The removal of clothes suits him best of all.

“No, but if I was, you wouldn’t need to hold onto the bars at all. I’d just make them twist around your hands.”

“Excellent, because there’s one thing I find really sexy, and it’s the blood supply to my fingers being cut off until they’re gangrenous,” James splutters. “You’ve found my hidden kink.”

“It’s not hard to find if you tell me all about it,” Michael points out. 

James had done just that, without hesitation, but only when Michael had decided to ask. They had been hanging around on set together, not bored, precisely, but both approaching irritable when technical hitches keep slowing up the shoot. They’d known they were of no use to anybody when it came to sorting out lighting issues and wire harnesses and whatever the hell else was the problem so they had hung back, chatting quietly. Maybe it had been inevitable that their talk would turn towards sex.

Michael knew they had not been together long, exactly, but long hours of filming and living within each other’s pockets day in, day out had accelerated their relationship. They are both passionate men, after all. After months of working together, Michael had decided he wanted to know something specific James is passionate about, and had asked if there was anything he particularly liked, sexually. 

James had beamed, and announced, “When someone spanks my arse,” with no small amount of relish. The discussion that had followed had been short and to the point.

“Would you like to try it with me?”

“Really? …Yeah. Tonight?” 

“After dinner?” 

“Er…No, a bit later. I want to nip into town and get something, first.”

Very mysterious. Michael had seen the glint in James’ eye, but further questioning had been brushed off. Eventually he had shrugged. He is a passionate man, sure, but he is also patient, and he could wait for whatever James was thinking of.

James had appeared in Michael’s room later that evening as promised, bringing with him a pair of black leather gloves. Simple, ordinary gloves. Michael had raised a bemused eyebrow as James had thrust them into his hands then crushed their lips together, kissing until both were breathless. 

“Where’d you want me?” James had demanded. A broad grin had spread unstoppably over his face and he had bounced a little on the balls of his feet. Michael, flustered and trying not to show it, had stumbled over his words.

“Er…strip off, and…put your hands on the bed frame, and bend over, I suppose?”

And now here they are. Michael watches James pull his t-shirt over his head and admires the smooth lines of his back, the pale skin never failing to draw his attention. James is aware he has an audience and plays to it, shimmying his hips ridiculously as he guides his jeans down. His boxer shorts end up being thrown across the room as if at a whooping audience in a strip club. They land in the fruit bowl.

Michael examines the gloves as James trots to his bed. They seem new; he realises this must be what James wanted to pick up. He must have purchased them just for this. Michael grins. “So. You…like being spanked. With leather gloves?” James arranges himself at the foot of the bed as he answers, settling his hands on the round bars of the frame and spreading his legs.

“I like being spanked with many things,“ he shrugs. “Leather gloves are just one of my favourites. Why, d’you not like them? Have I taken the fun out of it, then?” He looks at Michael over his bare shoulder, hands still planted firm on the polished bars as he twists his body around just a little, and grins. 

“I don’t think so,” Michael murmurs, and raises his eyes from the gloves to trail once more over the glorious body before him. James is short, stocky; he guides his legs further apart until James is posed to his liking, with his arms braced either side of his body, bent over a little way with his feet set firm on the floor. It suits him; his glorious thighs are tense, the set of his shoulders sharp and deliberate, his hair trailing a little over his bare neck. It’s getting long. Michael may not be entirely sure what James is expecting from him, but he‘s sure he can think of something to do with this body to inspire him. “No, I’m pretty sure we haven’t exhausted our fun, yet.”

Michael tugs the gloves on, slowly. James is watching him, intent eyes darting from the movement of his hands, to his smirk, and back. “Face the front, please.”

James scoffs, a noise of mingled disbelief and mockery, and Michael takes this as his cue. He finally allows himself to move closer, positioning himself close enough that his clothing brushes against bare skin in several places, and settles his gloved hands either side of James’ head. Those bright eyes have widened at his approach, and widen yet further when Michael gently guides his head until he is staring at the wall. “I _said_ , face the front.”

“You’re serious?” 

“You expected no rules?”

“I didn’t expect to have my eye-candy taken away,” James grumbles amiably. His breath catches when Michael runs a hand down from his hair, over his cheek, to settle over his mouth. He doesn’t press hard, and it certainly isn’t enough pressure to truly gag him, but James quietens immediately. Michael leans closer, nuzzling at his hair, and sees that James has closed his eyes.

“You like this?” James nods without hesitation. Michael cannot help but appreciate that about him; that he will admit so openly, so honestly, what he likes and wants and needs. James is a refreshing man in a world full of bullshit. He fans his fingers, covering his chin, his cheek, stroking his nose with his thumb as he presses close beneath it. James inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring, and he produces a soft, keening moan. “You like the smell of leather, then?”

“Yes,” James murmurs as Michael’s fingers shift, trailing down the delicate skin of his jaw and tapping at a pulse point. “Very much. Wish I could bottle it, actually.”

“To spray on yourself whenever you want?”

“Not on _me_ ,” James corrects softly. “I like it much better on other people.”

“Hence the gloves. Did you test them out, before you bought them?” Michael asks, curious both in tone and touch. He runs his fingertips down James’ chest, skittering over his ribs, and smiles when he squirms without once moving his hands.

“Hey - some of us are ticklish, mind what you’re doing! Tested them out in what way?”

“Did you try them on?”

“No,” James says without pause. Michael nods, and strokes the slight curve of his belly.

“Did you smell them, then?”

“Yes.” The admission is freely given, and Michael cannot help but chuckle.

“Right there in the shop?”

“I turned my back!” James protests with a huff. “It’s not like I did it at the till, or something. I was discreet! It’s not like I rubbed them over my -”

“ -Yes?” Michael interrupts, and chooses this moment to fist his prick. He doesn’t stroke, doesn’t pull, merely settles long fingers around heated flesh and holds him. James groans, and does so again when his free hand squeezes an arse cheek firmly. “Am I getting close?”

“Spot on.” James turns to look at him, his eyes sparkling and his pupils blown. “God, you’ve no idea how good that feels, Michael.”

“I think I might have an idea,” Michael says, and moves in for a kiss. The angle is slightly awkward, with James’ neck craned and his hands still fast on the bed frame, while Michael refuses to let his hands leave James’ body, but both moan at the touch of their lips regardless. As they pull apart, Michael chases James’ mouth and gives him a sharp nip on the bottom lip with his teeth.

“Ow! What was _that_ for?” James protests, but Michael is certain he feels his cock twitch in his grasp. His tongue sweeps over his lip curiously before he produces a ridiculous pout, but his cheeks are flushed.

“I told you,” Michael murmurs, “To face the front.”

“I know.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“I will,” James promises, and he grins lasciviously. “I just needed a rule to break, that’s all.”

“Why?” Michael is bemused, walking through this almost blind and keen to learn.

“To give you a reason to spank me.”

“But you want it! Surely there doesn’t need to be a _reason_?” Michael protests.

“No,” James agrees, and his smile becomes positively wicked before he turns his head obediently. “But I like it best when I feel like I deserve it.”

Michael feels his own prick perk up at these words, straining against the rough material of his jeans. He swallows, and decides he can roll with this. “You certainly deserve it now, don’t you? Deliberately breaking the rules. Don‘t you know better than that?”

“Sometimes. When I want to.” Michael pats his bare arse, then, and delights in the small gasp this teases from James. 

“Maybe I can teach you so it sticks, then.”

“You can try,” James says, the challenge lying thick on his words. Michael can tell without looking that there is a cheeky grin on his face. 

He wants to wipe it away. Wants to reach out and swat at that delicious arse, to mark him and see what it does to James, and yet he hesitates. He’s never done this before, and he’s not sure _how_ , now it comes to it.

James seems to realise, after a moment. “Michael?”

“Mmm?”

“Michael,” James says more firmly. “Do me a favour. Give me a cuddle, will you?”

“What?” He raises an eyebrow in surprise, a laugh startled from him. He can’t exactly say he’d connected spanking and cuddles before this moment.

“Just do it. C’mon. Wrap your arms around me,” James urges, and Michael cannot resist. He plasters himself up against James, slides his gloved hands around his waist and his chest and nuzzles into his hair, eyes closed. “That’s good. Have I freaked you out?”

“No,” Michael says truthfully. James’ request had _delighted_ him, in some dark way he was unaware was within him, and he had agreed to it without hesitation. That confidence, it seemed, had been premature.

“Right. Then I’m guessing it’s just that you haven’t done this before?”

“Never. Sorry,” Michael admits, and presses a kiss to James’ hair. James huffs.

“Don’t say that. Look at me. Really look, all right?” James asks, and Michael blinks. “You asked me to face forward, and I am. You asked me to keep my hands here, and I have. Michael,” he murmurs softly, his voice twining around him tenderly even as his hands remain in place, “I’ll do what you want. If you want us to stop, I’ll stop.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Michael jokes weakly, but feels himself settling.

“You don’t need to. I know you would,” James says in a deliberately light tone, but Michael damn near feels his heart stop with this. “I trust you. I wouldn’t have asked for this if I didn’t. But you’re allowed to refuse it. Nothing’ll change. I mean that, mate, _nothing_.”

“I want it,” Michael murmurs. “But I’m not sure I can hurt you.” James exhales in a rush.

“It’s a good kind of hurt. God, I promise you, it’s not like getting in a fight, mate,” James laughs softly. “It’s a release. It’s a fuckin’ _rush_. And I think you might think so too.”

Michael breathes out, slowly, and breathes in James’ scent until it is deep inside him. “Alright. Alright, yeah.” He hesitates, then asks against James’ ear, “What do you consider a reasonable number of…?”

“Ten,” says James promptly, before turning his head just a little and adding with a wink, “After that your poor hand’ll probably start to ache.”

“Cheeky fuck,” Michael laughs. He disentangles himself from the delectable body, steps back and takes a deep breath. James is still standing as he was, legs spread and back arched forward just a little, presenting that glorious backside up to him. 

Another deep breath, and then he swings.

The _thwack_ of leather meeting flesh is satisfying. Very satisfying. The sharp gasp that is tugged from James is much more so.

“Oh,” Michael breathes. His fingers trace the yielding flesh of James’ backside, marvelling at the angry mark that slowly blooms beneath them. James is still beneath his touch, his arms tensed and his shoulders set rigidly, and a quick glance shows Michael he has closed his eyes again.

“One,” he murmurs. Michael nods, and pulls back his hand.

Two and three are both delivered slowly, each spank placed deliberately in the middle of each cheek. Four and five are experimental, both aimed at the top of either thigh, while six and seven are higher, grazing his lower back. James counts them aloud without being asked. Michael revels in the sound of his voice, low and needy and unravelling further with each spank.

James’ skin is pale at the best of times. Now his arse is milky in places, pink in others, approaching red elsewhere. The black leather adorning his hands is a striking contrast, and Michael cannot bring himself to look away for awhile. “Is it the leather, or the spanking?” he asks curiously, as he allows his fingers to trail between the rounded cheeks. 

“Yes,” James half-laughs. His head is bowed now, his body propped up by slightly-shaking arms as he leans forward. His cock hangs hard and heavy between his spread legs. “Either. Both are fuckin’ good. Neither are always necessary, exactly. Just…enhancements, y‘know.” Michael brings his hand down without warning, and James lurches as he gasps. “Fuck! Eight.”

“Very good,” Michael murmurs without really meaning to. He smiles as James straightens up proudly with his words, and delivers the ninth and tenth without hesitation.

Even if he had been joking, James is right; his palm is definitely heated, with the beginnings of an ache setting in. It’s hard to gauge, but he suspects James’ reddened skin must be throbbing, and prodding it lightly produces an undignified yelp from his partner. “Ow! Oi, what’re you doing? You’ve not had your fill of manhandling me, yet?”

“I’m not sure I ever _could_ ,” Michael laughs softly, amused by the mix of indignation and delight in James’ voice. He fans both hands out over his backside and marvels at the moan even a small squeeze of tender flesh produces. He’s managed to ignore it until now, but his left hand now moves unstoppably from James’ gorgeous backside to his cock and fists it curiously. The effect is immediate; his hips buck into his touch and he groans, his dishevelled head hanging between his arms.

“Fuck - Michael,” James whines, almost mewling as Michael runs his fingers along his length, smearing precome as they tease. Michael brings himself closer, pressing the bulge of his jean-clad cock against James’ arse and rocking gently against his heated skin while he rests his chin on one straining shoulder. The gloves are slick against velvety flesh as he strokes his leaking prick, his thumb swirling over his slit at the apex of each movement. 

It’s not enough. He hasn’t spanked James as hard as he liked just to ignore that arse, so he raises his free hand and pointedly strokes two fingers over James’ bottom lip. James opens up immediately to welcome them inside and Michael finds himself fascinated at the sensation of his fingers worked through the leather, dry even as James sucks and tongues at them. His partner moans, apparently delighted by the taste of his gloves, and when Michael finally brings it upon himself to pull his fingers away James licks his lips obscenely. Michael groans, and it takes real effort to drag his hips away from the delicious swell of his backside.

One questing finger probes his crack, parting the cheeks and pressing lightly against his entrance. James spreads his legs eagerly as a single fingertip breaches him, hips arching back to get more. Michael chuckles; James is always impatient, always wanting more, now, _quickly_. Usually Michael would debate whether or not to indulge him, but perhaps today James has earned what he wants.

He pushes within the tight heat, revelling as James gasps and mutters, “Fuck, yes, Fassbender.” He’s squirming against the twin sensations at his arse and prick, breath already ragged as Michael withdraws his finger then thrusts further inside. The touch of his hand is rougher than he would usually allow and James is unravelling quickly, rocking back onto his finger and pushing into his fist as soft noises fall from his lips. 

A second finger is pushed into his tight, quivering muscle before he has a chance to grow used to the first and drags a whine from that expressive mouth. His head lolls against Michael’s shoulder when both fingers are crooked inside him, rubbing torturously over his sweet spot as his legs tremble and he tries to keep himself upright. Michael swallows dryly as James bites his bottom lip and blinks hazy, half-lidded eyes up at him. 

Michael is not sure why he does it, but an urge strikes him and he decides to indulge himself; he presses his lips to the bared throat presented to him and _bites_ , hard enough to leave yet another mark on his partner’s delicate flesh, and James _wails_ as he spills over his hand.

They stay like that as James flops against him, hands finally leaving the rails as Michael holds him up. His mouth remains fixed to James’ throat, lapping over his thrumming pulse as his partner sucks in lungfuls of air as if he’s been seconds away from drowning. Finally, just as Michael begins to squirm desperately against the curve of his backside, James turns in his arms and claims his mouth in a giddy kiss. “Thanks, mate,” he grins as he pulls back.

“You don’t have to thank me for something I enjoyed too,” Michael protests around a laugh, and cannot quite believe the wicked expression James aims at him after glancing down his body.

“Aye, I can see you did,” he smirks. “Fine, then, you don’t want thanks? I’ll express my appreciation another way.” Michael finds himself dragged around the bed by a fist bunched in his shirt. James shoves him onto the bed and guides his body until he’s seated on the side, his legs opened wide.

James drops to his knees, then, flushed and naked with his thighs spread indecently and his heels pressing into his aching backside. He moans softly at this pressure, wriggles to get comfortable between Michael’s knees, and helpfully unfastens his jeans. Michael groans at the rough touch of denim over his hardened dick and raises his hips helpfully, but receives a stern glare that makes him laugh, given that it’s coming from the naked chap kneeling at his feet.

“Whatever you want,” he chuckles, willing to indulge James yet further, and drops himself back down. He enjoys the view as James frees his dick, doing little more than dragging the zip down and guiding his underwear out of the way. Here he is, naked and unashamed, while Michael sits fully clothed but for his cock.

There is something graceful about James’ movements as he lifts his head to drag his tongue teasingly down the length of his shaft, his flesh flushed and needy, twitching at the touch of slick lips. Hands bunch in Michael’s rumpled clothing as James opens his mouth and takes him inside, lips and tongue and teeth conspiring to drive him wild. His own hands struggle for a moment, before one tangles itself in James’ messy hair and the other fists the bedclothes desperately. The soft, wet noises James makes as he bobs easily along his length are just indecent; worst of all are his eyes when James glances up, his gaze bright and feverish, to fix firmly on Michael’s face as he gasps and pants. He comes in that talented mouth as James smirks up at him, somehow managing to look self-satisfied as he cleans his prick with delicate laps of his tongue.

They end up sprawled together on the bed, eventually. Michael peels off the gloves and drops them to the floor, spilled semen and all, and drags James with a hand wound firmly in his hair until he lies with his head on Michael’s chest. James is laughing softly to himself as his tongue darts from between swollen lips to lick come from his chin. He settles as a large hand slides down his back, stroking curiously over his arse and marvelling at the heat coming from the marks he has left.

“Still a good hurt?” Michael asks, wondering if he should be feeling guilty. The vague worry abates when James laughs, and reaches around to press Michael’s hand more firmly into his flesh while he grins.

“Still a very, very good hurt. It’s been too long since anybody’s done that to me, mate, thanks,” he says easily, and Michael slides a hand into his hair, stroking softly.

“You’ve had nobody offer?”

“No, I’ve had nobody I’ve trusted,” James clarifies, and Michael kisses his hair impulsively as his breath catches in his throat. James seems to understand what his touch means, as he smiles gently in return, a beautiful, heartbreaking expression. Then his teeth close sharply around Michael’s left nipple hard enough to produce a yelp.

“Little bastard!” Michael sputters. “What was that for?”

“What was _what_ for?” James asks, all too wide-eyed and innocent, and soon breaks into a smirk when faced with the might of Michael’s hair-pulling skills. “Just making sure I deserve it, next time we do this,” he grins, and flicks his other nipple.

Michael’s pretty sure James is going to be insufferable to be around, for awhile. He’s also pretty sure it’ll be more than worth it.


End file.
